Steampunk Autumn

Steampunk Autumn by jujucellorock featuring knee high boots

Insanity

Insanity by jujucellorock 

A Will To Live

 by jujucellorock 
Chic, non?

Internet English

While the above graphic is pretty funny, it's not entirely true. Sure there are people online that will berate you for misspelling words, or overall screwing up your grammar, but there is so much that gets away scott free. Have you looked at Facebook recently? Every other post that isn't by your mom's co-worker is misspelled. 'i's and 'u's are all over the place, as well as 'lol', 'yolo' and 'brb'. I'm not saying that you should have to type out everything individually, or spellcheck everything you put online, but you should at least put some effort into it. Why should people look at your statuses or posts and put some thought into them when you obviously haven't?
There's also the fact that it comes out in school as well. I see people treating essays and papers the same way they treat Facebook posts. And that does not bode well for their grades.
Overall, it's just pathetic. Why waste precious time typing up something no one will take seriously? Time isn't all that precious? Then use a little more before you hit 'Enter'.
Now that I'm through with my little rant, I hope you enjoy that random pic I found on a cool little site. It's from Icanhascheezburger.com*.



*And yes, isn't that the cherry on top?

Creeper! Run!!!!!!

My summer has consisted so far of four things: work at Lagoon, ze new kittens, lots and lots of books, and Minecraft. Since y'all are probably really bored with my talk of Lagoon and my weird animal posts, I've decided to blog about that fun little game: Minecraft.
I'm not a big gamer. I cannot play PS3 for the life of me, unless it's Katamari. But computer games always seemed easier to me, perhaps because I spend a lot more time with a keyboard than a joystick or a controller. Perhaps because I like the screen being really close to my face. Either way, I now play a few PC games and am definitely into My Little Pony. (I'm actually cosplaying as Fluttershy. So excited!)
Minecraft is the main one, man. The big guy of all gamers and weirdos alike. So of course I had to try it.
I've been punching trees and building mines for a while now, so I'm used to all sorts of things on Minecraft. There is one thing I may never, ever get used to, though.
Creepers.
One glance of black and green in my peripheral vision, and I'm screaming like a madman. Endermen are even worse. I mean tall, black, with unnerving white eyes? *shiver*
I just recently got the yogbox, which is like a collection of mods the Yogscast whipped together. (British group that plays Minecraft. [I am a dwarf, and I'm digging a hole. Diggy diggy hole!] look 'em up)
Anyway, today's adventures include me finding a turtle, freaking out a little bit, and capturing him as my pet. I then named him Tutty (creative, I know) and accidentally killed him in a mine-shaft.
*Moment of silence for dear, sweet Tutty*
Then finding a house full of bandits, and sadly getting slaughtered. (I thought they were peaceful villagers! Guess that's what I get for being friendly to the natives)
And crafting some croc boots, out of real croc skin. My inner tree hugger is still yelling at me for that.
All in all, I had a very interesting time in the world of zombies and fire-flowers. Now I'm going to dive back in, and find some weird ax my nearest lumberman of a neighbor desires. Tootaloo!! (Poor, poor Tutty...)

Bonjour!

I bet that a ton of you are asking yourself why in the world I would name my "goodbye" blog Bonjour. I also bet you didn't know Bonjour is like Aloha: it means both hello and goodbye. This may be the end of Junior High school, but it's also the beginning to the rest of our lives. I'd like to first say thanks to everyone. Everyone in my life has helped me in one way or another, and I'm glad I can call most of them friends.  From my 'gang' to my eight grade buddies, I love you all. Jamie told me the other day that I've become 'popular' even though that is definetly not the case. I am not popular, but I do have many, many good friends. Now I want to do particular shout outs to certain people, but don't feel left out if I don't mention you. It's sort of impossible to mention every person that's helped me this year, so I'll adress the main ones.

First, thanks to all my teachers. You've helped me so much, and I love talking to you all and listening to you rant in class.

Now, there's the students.
Honor's English people, thanks for entertaining me with your random blogs. You guys are amazing even though half of you don't even know I read your blogs. (I be creepin')

• Moogle Kid, you amaze me sometimes with your wit and memory. (Anime and compliments...good times.) Don't forget that one project on um....ok, your memory's way better. :)
• Deep Sea Zombie, you've been one of my best friends this year. Thanks for not getting weird when Mirana went on her little, 'you two would look so good together!' rampage.
• Pretty Pony, thanks for being an amazing cello buddy! It's been fun seeing your (huge!) house and stuffing myself with candy and cheetos. Have fun at Davis, and I'll miss you!
• Happy Sidekick & Day Dreamer, thank you so much for coming to Layton with me! Do you realise we're the only ones going into that orchestra from Fairfield? Your blogs were really fun to follow as well. It's crazy how alike some of your posts are, yet how different. I especially loved it when you both wrote about one trip, but your voices and perspectives were so different I thought they were completely different trips!
• Skittles, you are amazing. Thanks for being my dance partner and keeping me sane through Dickson's class, and thank you so much for being my 'complain about the world' buddy. *high five*

My friends who are fortunate enough to not be in Honor's English (just kidding, I love this class):

• Da Gang. I can't even describe how soothing it is to have a group of friends that just kind of are. You guys have really helped me this year, and I'm sorry if I acted like a jerk. I need to branch out a little, you know? But you guys are still amazing, and I'm glad I'll be seeing you all next year!
• Eighth Grade Buddies: from screaming my name in the hall, to chatting behind me in Orchestra (you know who you are!) and even running away from fake spiders, you guys were an amazing stress relief. Remember to enjoy your life!
• Alexis's 'lil group: thanks for letting me merge in, even when I didn't know a lot of you. Micah, thanks for telling me all about your boy trouble, and thanks Solomon for saying stuff like, "that's interesting" and you are so welcome for the potatoes :)
• Pretty Pony's medely of people: You guys are fun to hang out with, even if only at lunch. Thanks for giving up your seats, (such gentlement :P) and including me in everything.

And I would definitely like to thank Bryce for making my year so much funner. You made me realize that the sadness in life doesn't matter, it's what you do with it that counts.

I'm going to stop before I start sobbing, but thanks again! My ninth grade year was a blast because of all of you.

Someone

I had an odd feeling today, and I realized I wanted to start writing a song. This song doesn't really have a tune that's constant, since I made it on the spot, but I rather like it. It's kind of like a poem, with a bit of singing added in. Here it is: "Someone" by moi.

I want you to know
Something I found not long ago
'Cuz someone you know
Has changed

This is me, this is who I want to be
And don't tell me to be
Someone else!
Someone new!
Someone just like you!

Because it's not who I really am
Just the shell of a truth
I'm not who you knew

I'm not the girl from yesterday
I'm not the one who
Got away

And don't tell me you want me back
Because I'm not like that.

I'm not like that, ay ay ay
Because I'm not like that, ay ay ay ayaaa
I'm not the girl you knew.

I want to be, someone you'd never know
And I won't be
Someone else!
Someone new!
Someone just like you!

You wouldn't like me anyway
If weren't for the tears
of yesterday

Because I am not what you think
I'm a person
Who knows the truth
And it doesn't include you!

No, no, no
It's just me.

Bloody Vegetable!

My mom bought me some avocados the other day, and I just got around to chopping them up for a salad. I took out the pit like always, but stopped before I threw it away.
Are avocado pits toxic? Can you eat them?
Flashed through my mind, and I set it on the counter to dissect after I'd finished my salad. When I got around to cutting it up, it didn't want to cooperate. So, because I had nothing better to do, I stuck it in my mouth and sucked on it for a while. Don't judge me. After about five minutes of trying really hard not to bite it, I pulled it out and peeled off the thin layer between the meat of the seed and the meat of the actual avocado. To my surprise, I found a nut that looked kind of like a peanut. Before I could even think, I bit into it.
Bleh.
That pit was nasty. It was bitter and opposite of the avocado flesh, sharp and jagged instead of smooth and creamy. I jumped on the computer to see if I needed to call the poison control, and I came up with various sources that had little to nothing in common with the others. One said the core contained cyanide.(Click Here) Another said it was a great source of soluble fiber (whatever that is. [Yumm...Avocado smoothies]). And yet another said that it contained a crap load of potassium, but too much would kill you. (Raw Health...hehe)
What am I supposed to believe?
I went back to examine my littler avocado seed, and found my tooth marks in the side.
It was bleeding.
No, it wasn't turning black. No, it wasn't a tiny animal resting inside a fatty veggy. It was an avocado pit, bleeding. 
I turned to the all powerful Google for the answer, and got a boring explanation on how it was the tannin in the pit oxidizing. (Yahoo Answers. Not very reliable....but still.) My mind didn't want to accept it; I kept thinking, "oh goodness, it's alive! It's not really a vegetable....or a fruit!".
And now I'm not sure what's up with my brain, but I think I'm feeling a little woozy. Maybe I'll go lie down for a while and tell myself that people put it in smoothies all the time....
Ta-ta for now!

Bugmania

Today I had the pleasure of digging out my side yard, and setting up a small patio type thing. It was long, grueling work, but definitely worth it. Not because it looks amazing now, no. It was worth it because of all the life I got to see crawling among the weeds and ivy.
There were beetles and stink bugs and wood bugs, plus about a million different species of spiders. (ok, more like six- but still!) There was so many creatures, it made my head spin.
It was even funner to see my mom study me every time I approached, looking for a spider or other bug on my arm. She's terrified of them. Which makes each discovery so much better.
I found one crawling up the wall, a small brown spider that didn't have opaque legs or the tell-tale violin marking on it's back. I always check for those before picking it up with my bare hands, so I don't end up spider-meat.Anyway I found it and immediately named it Kevin. I picked it up and walked slowly over to my mom sitting on her little bench, taking a breather. She glanced up at me and said, "What?" I stopped and smiled. "Do you want to meet Kevin?" I replied, watching her every movement. She got a strange look in her eye. "There's no one here. Who exactly am I meeting?" I revealed the spider on my arm and she jumped up, scared out of her mind. After a few minutes she walked back to the patio, gloves on her hands and a bucket in her arms. She wouldn't come any closer until I told her that no, I did not still have Kevin on me, and no, I had not picked up another bug.
I laughed the whole time I was shoveling up rocks, keeping an eye out for more specimens. I also found a centipede, (Carl) and a wood bug (Woody) trying to scamper away. My entire family started saying, "Just squish it, Julie." whenever I would stop and stare attentively at movement on the wall or the ground. Of course I never did.
I also had to weed whack the rocks in my front yard. I was wearing a white dress I hadn't bothered to change out of, and I ended up with a very awkward Marilyn Monroe moment. Luckily there was no-one around to notice, but I immediately ducked into my window to change into more yard work friendly clothes.
And my strawberries are growing so well! My attempt at a garden has come out with more than just weeds and dead tomatoes, as I expected it would.
My outdoor escapades have gone remarkably well. Now I have to stop myself from walking out the front door in my bare feet and large T-shirt, or climbing out of the window to check once more on my strawberries. Once you get a taste of nature, you never go back. At least I never will.
And I will end this tidbit of life with a warning: the number one most hated creature at this moment, the one you should all look out for, the one my sister has been whining up a storm about, da-ta-da! Aphids. Once you're infested, you're screwed. So protect your plants from this terrible menace!
:D

Au Naturale....Not.

I've always adored nature, and I've been begging my family to take me to the mountains to have a nice long hike. They finally relented, but decided to choose an extremely short trail. We had no idea that at the end of the trail was this beautiful waterfall, but it was definitely a pleasant surprise. On the way up I had to endure yelling and singing, not to mention my dad tugging on my braids and my sister screaming, "Julie!". The scenery was impressive, and the plant life was pretty diverse for the dry mountains of Utah. Other than my family, the hike was a lot of fun. (OK, maybe they were kind of entertaining as well.)
We went up a sandy trail covered with hoof prints and sneaker dents and came to some short oak trees. As we went on we discovered cacti and sage mixed in with a lot more sand and dirt. We also noticed the impressive view, and I looked up to find a small golden puppy looking down on us from an outcropping of rock. My mom had my camera, or else I would have a picture of the most realistic Simba look-alike I had ever seen. Seconds later I saw a man up there, assuaging my fears of a lost puppy I desperately wanted to rescue. All my maternal instincts weren't assuaged though, because seconds later I came across this bad boy.

Yep. Some idiot decided to litter. Those little voices in my head started screaming. I could imagine the plant next to it a few years form now, crying and begging for someone to please help it. I can also imagine a French guy coming to Utah and going on this trail and seeing this litter and basing his entire opinion of the US on this stupid act of idiocy. And it didn't stop there. There was tons more litter on the trail, including candy (not wrappers, the entire candy), bottles, lids, pieces of metal, pennies, cans, T-shirts and even what looked like two bookcases on their sides. I mean, really? My dad summed it up in a sentence I never would have thought of: "The world is just a human litter box."

This is wrong. I could rant for days on this, but I'll just let a little creative photography tell the story for me. As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. 

* All the garbage I could fit in my pocket from the trail, plus three pennies.

You Fail.

Has anyone ever noticed how often the word fail is used today? Everyone from computer geeks to Kindergartners uses it. Epic Fails are everywhere on the web, and Walmart celebrates their shoppers' failed clothing. Everywhere you look, it's fail, fail, fail.
Well, recently I've discovered a new way to use this overused word, and it has to do with my grades. Let me try for a moment to be philosophical or psychiatric or whatever you want to call it and tell you why I maybe might be, kind of am, Failing.
It believe it all started when my cousin committed suicide. I knew him, but he wasn't my bff or anything. I wasn't that devastated; at least, that's what I led everyone to believe. I think I even lied to myself, saying that I didn't care that he'd hung himself in his own backyard.I told myself I didn't know him, not personally. I even told myself that my family would be fine; of course they'd never try drugs to help them deal with the pain. Of course my cousin wouldn't be texting inappropriate things to her 'guy friends'. I didn't even let myself cry.
That, I think, was a mistake.
"Maybe, maybe, if only..." Ran through my mind constantly, and in fact, it still runs through my mind when I'm alone, homework piled up in a corner of my bedroom, the laughs of my friends and family faded form my mind.
A little while ago, two boys committed suicide. As a result Ffjh handed out pamphlets on suicide and I looked at those papers and realized something they hadn't mentioned. I wasn't going to take my life for an easy way out; no matter what happened, I wouldn't hurt my family like that. I wouldn't be selfish enough to take away my mom's 'sunshine' or my dad's 'little turd'. I wouldn't take away my sister's best friend, or my brother's co-conspirator. I wouldn't take away my cat Chief's  'mommy', or my dog Caden's 'pack-mate'. Nothing in the world could make me kill a girl named Julia.
Because that's all that suicide is: selfishly taking someone's life. It's not a release from pain, or a last resort option. It just makes more pain, more hurt in everyone else's life.
Now some of you might be worried that I'm even mentioning suicide. Don't be. I just need somewhere to put my feelings out, somewhere I can tell people what's wrong without being a whiny little girl about it. Someone ( a teacher) came to me today to ask about my grades, and ask if he could do anything to help. I looked at him calmly and told him that I would take care of it, but thanks for asking. What more could I do? I'm so done with confessing my life story to anyone on the street and I hate pity. So what could I do? I decided that the best option this time is to shut up, grow a pair,(excuse my french) and take responsibility.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a whole lot of work to make up.
Because one Fail is one too many, and I've had my fill of 'em.

Life as A Nurse's Daughter

Yesterday my mom took me and my siblings out to Arctic Circle for dinner. As we walked into the establishment, my brothers yelling and competing for mom's attention, I noticed that a teen boy about my age was refilling the ice in the cola machine. He was refilling it using a grungy looking bucket while he stood on the counter, and then used the bottom of the bucket to push down the ice. To me and my sister, this was pretty normal. I mean, he's gotta refill it somehow, doesn't he? Apparently my mom had a different idea.
"I am so calling the health department." She said, under her breath. My sister just gave me a look, one that only sisters or lifelong friends could interpret. It said, 'Looks like another episode. Can you believe this?' to which I replied with a look that said, 'Oh yes, yes I can.' I looked back to my mom approaching the counter, a look on her face that could curdle milk.
"Excuse me, are you the manager?" She asked, feigning a rather sweet voice.
"Yes. Is there a problem?" The stocky lady answered.
The rest was lost to my ears, because at that very moment I turned to Alex and said, "Do you have to go to the bathroom? Because I have to go to the bathroom. Let's go to the bathroom." And walked away, her arm in my hand.
We came back a few minutes later after discovering that they only had a single person bathroom, and pretended we had no idea who the crazy lady with the two boys was. I caught a small tidbit of conversation, and then her voice got louder as she turned towards the door. "I'm so done with this. Come on, kids."
As we left I noticed a few people staring at us, and the boy with the bucket was no longer on the counter. He stood behind it, looking after us with more fear than anything else. I kind of felt bad for that kid; I knew how it felt to be convicted of a crime that 'could kill people'- to take my mother's words. As we walked a little farther down the street to Subway, I remembered countless times when my mother would walk up to the counter and ask for a wash-rag so she could wipe down the table herself.
Weird happenings at fast-food places aren't the only things that have come from a mother in the medical field. There's also the towels, and the pet dishes. Have you ever seen a medical drama? Do you know those blue towels they have in the operating rooms? Yes? Well those are our kitchen towels. Do you know the little plastic containers they have to put organs and other matter into? Those are our pet dishes. Weird, I know, but at least we recycle :D.
Oh, and there's the time my mom got a kidney (not human, don't worry) for our dog, Kaden. But that's a story for another time. Abientot!

Spring Break: A Combination of Maggots and Sunburns

"Oh, look. The potatoes are starting to rot."
"Yeah, they've been rotting for a while now."
"Really, Alex? If you knew they were rotting in the pantry, then why am I the one cleaning them up?"
A short pause; then: "Sorry."
Sometimes my family drives me crazy. Ok, maybe more like all the time. So the other day when I realized there would be no school for the next week, I asked myself: How in the world am I going to get through this without strangling them?
The answer is a bit more complicated than I would like. I decided after going through a list of options in my head. It read:
1) Lock everyone in a private room and give them food under the door three times a day.
2) Hibernate.
3) Run away to live with wolves.
4) Immerse myself in books completely.
5) Ignore everyone.
6) Find another job.
7) Put myself in a coma.
8) Go on a rampage and threaten to kill anyone who bothers me.
9)  Lock myself in a room and demand food be served three times a day.
10) Apprentice myself to a world class chef.
11) Become a computer nerd.
12) Get really good at Ignoring people.
The list went on- but most of the things on it were not plausible. So instead I decided on a nice conservative course of action.
KILL EVERYONE.
Then I remembered you could go to jail for that. Hm.... How about the seclusion bit, added to the book bit, with a rather large amount of time spent sleeping...And Whabam! You get my version of spring break.
And the first day, (Saturday was my first day) I spent it working. And now I am pink in the face- literally pink. I got sunburned, which never happens due to my Cherokee blood. Which means I am cranky. Which means it's even harder to put up with my family. Which is why I am even mentioning it. Which is why I am stopping the whole Which is why bit. Which is- ha. Got you there, didn't I?
Let's everyone cross our fingers and hope for the best, and if you happen to see a story about a girl going crazy and killing her family (not including the dogs) don't expect to hear from me again.
Which is why I am going to go sleep now. Good-night!

Cello There!

Blank. Oohh look, something shiny...Stop it! Focus Sakura, focus. You have to do about a million essays, cook dinner, and shake off the headache you got from, "Wear this costume, tuck your hair in your disgusting hat, walk with pointed toes while carrying a basket on your head, and don't forget to blah blah blahblah." Oh, and you promised yourself you wouldn't rant or complain on your blog.
Great.
That's too bad, because other than that, there is absolutely nothing enlightening or even remarkably interesting going on in my mind. Have you ever noticed how appealing other websites are when you have work to do? How hard it is to stay on one page and focus on an essay about the Black Death, especially when it's in a format that should never be used for a comparison essay? Ok, maybe not that exact situation, but you know what I'm talking about if you've ever been a student. You also know that your mind will start making up random crap to get you out of the situation. Oh, you're hungry Sakura. You haven't eaten anything all day. Just because you just ate dinner doesn't mean you're not going to starve to death. The kitchen's in the other room, just a few steps away. Are you really going to get in trouble for having a little snack? You can't focus on an empty stomache. Sakura, Sakura, Saakuurraa.....And so forth. Your mind won't stop nagging you, telling you that your time could be better spend elsewhere or that a 'little break' won't hurt. And now of course I'm stuck with this habit, and oh, is it a hard one to break.
But that's not why I'm blogging. I'm blogging because I have an amazing story to tell, and you better listen. I don't want to hear, "Oh Sakura, I'm not interested in cellos." or "What's the point?" I'll get to it when I get to it-besides the point of stories is the journey, not the destination.
The other day my mom and I went to Summerhays to kill some time and maybe look into replacing my bow. We saw lots of instruments including flutes, violins, and even jaw harps. Many of them were breath-taking; a few were tacky and cheap. All of them, however, were amazing in my mind. All of them held the power to take you to a world unknown to most of Earth's population. All of them were able to teach you, whether you were learning valuable life skills or just learning how to entertain your younger sibling.
We walked in and I went immediately to the strings section, where I first stroked a viola, admired a bass, and held a bow up to the light. I was broken out of my revelry by my mother coming up behind me.
"Holy crap. I would not pay $5600 for a cello like that."
I was stunned. She, my mother, the one who always says, "don't judge a book by it's cover" had taken a cello at face value! She hadn't taken it off the shelf and played it, or noted how old it was, or even asked why it costed so much. She just saw the pockmarked sides, the price tag, and walked on. I immediately took the cello down and grabbed a bow, not realizing that it had little to no rosin on it. I played the cello and was amazed at it's sound. I never wanted to put that cello back on the wall, even when my family started walkin out the door.
I realized later that I had almost no rosin on that bow, and wondered how it played so well. (For those of you who aren't string musicians, rosin is essential. Without it, there is absolutely no sound whatsoever. I have a feeling that if I'd grabbed a cheaper, newer cello, all that would have come out is SQUEAK! SQUEAK!)
So, long story short, one day I forgot to bring my cello to school. I know, I know, I'm such a horrible person. Anyway, I grabbed a cello from the back room and got it out, realizing as I did so that it was coated with dust. Not just dusty, coated with it. It didn't stop there. Either I was crazy, or the fingerboard was crooked. NOOOOO!!!!!!!!
Not the fingerboard, anything but the fingerboard! Nooo!
Ok, calm down Sakura, calm down. The point is this: Even though that cello was beautiful, it sounded horrible and was probably the worst cello I've ever played. And yet the uglier one was amazing.
So really- don't ever, ever, ever-
Judge at face value.
(Or in my case, judge a cello by it's looks :D)

Continued- and Yes, Yes It Does

As me and A-ron got to the top of the old, cracked steps, I noticed that the slab of rock had moved yet again. So that's what that wierd handprint did, I thought, depressed with the realization that my adventure was cut short. I went immediately to the front room, where I expected my parents to be for some odd reason. They were there, waiting for me and the first thing they said was, "Go to bed, Sakura." So, as confused as I was, I obeyed. A little while after I layed down, I heard a hoarse scream from the next room over.
"A-ron?" I said, still groggy though I was sure I hadn't got any sleep. "Are you okay?"
Silence.
I stumbled into my brothers room to find and apocolypse. A-ron was using some scrap metal to beat back an odd creature I couldn't recognize. Then it dawned on me:
Monkeys.
Not just any monkeys. The kind with horrible, pus oozing wounds; the kind that didn't care if it lost and arm or a leg, if only it could have a bite of you. No, these weren't any monkeys.
They were zombies.
And they were coming straight towards me. Gone was the one attacking my brother; in it's place were six lumbering creatures with their eyes fixed on me. They'd forgotten him, and they were focusing on slowly, maliciously dragging their partially decomposed bodies towards me.
I was scared out of my wits, but I did the only accceptable thing in a situation like that. Grab the closest object that would work as a weapon and swing. I smashed a head with a hard crack, bringing back my unusually heavy bokan to hit another monkey- this one had eyes the size of golf balls, which would be cute on something, anything else. The one with the damaged leg crept up on my right, his mouth agape with hunger. I stumbled backwards and missed my next swing by at least a foot, disoriented by how real it was. Of course I knew it was a dream; but was it really a dream? Was I absolutely sure I wasn't going to be killed by these things? No, I couldn't trust something like that to the hands of some crazed, flesh eating monkeys. I whipped out of there, relying on the fact that I was fast at climbing stairs than zombie monkeys, and turned into the kitchen. The phone, the phone! I thought frantically, hoping for some kind of backup from the police. No luck. I was alone- but wait, maybe I had some backup after all.
Now normally, I don't ever have weapons in my garage, unless it's a rather large stick or some sharp scrap metal. But when I opened the door, light gleamed off of every weapon imaginable. Katanas, daggers, machetes and broadswords were all line up next to glocks, shotguns and some kind of sleek pistol with infared. And what was that in the corner? Oh yes, a classic: here I come, crazy chainsaw girl on da loose! I ran out of there with my shiny new weapon and rushed into A-ron's room. He was laying in the corner, a stunned expression frozen on his face. As I cut two zombies across the middle, he suddently got up and ran. Really? We're faced with an apocolyptic situation, and he's running away? Goodness. I cut down a few more zombies before he returned, a gleaming sword in his hands.
"Let's do this."
I don't know who said it, but it was on. We were slaying zombies left and right, having a wonderfully homicidal moment, when my chainsaw broke. A-ron kept them off me for a few more beats, but pretty soon he was down, his sword lost. And that was when they bowed.
The monkeys bowed down to me.
Then one moved forward, a smile gleaming in its face. In his right hand was a wicked dagger, curved at the end and covered in dried blood. He lifted it above my pale neck and struck, quick as a viper.
Then nothing but blackness. Thick, inky blackness creeping up around me, suffocating me with its tangible menace.Nothing more.

Does That Make Me Cra-zy~??

     Today, due to my complete lack of anything of interest to write about, I will be typing up a dream. Yes, I know it's odd my dreams have plots, but it's true. The following one was from Tuesday, and it is my personal favorite of this week.

     I'm at home, talking to my little brother A-ron in his room downstairs. For some reason we're talking about adventure, and how boring our lives had been lately.

"A-ron, have you ever noticed how exciting our lives were before we moved north? Ever since the move, nothing has happened to us."

"I know, right? Time seems to be, I don't know, smooshing this 'time period'-" which he said with his index and middle fingers bending, the sign for quotation marks."-Altogether, making it blend."

Just as I was about to change the subject to something a little sweeter, say cookies, I heard a BANG! From upstairs. Pretty soon I was running towards the stairs, then hesitating and changing direction to grab something, anything, to defend myself with. My Bokan! Perfect. I found it laying across my floor, fallen from the shelf I usually have it on. I turned around swiftly, before my mind could tell me to run and hide. Up the stairs I went, smacking my foot on the last step, turning into the kitchen and almost running into the island. Before I could orient myself with the bang, the ground started to shake. I had read somewhere that you should go into doorways when there is an earthquake, so back downstairs I ran. Or should I say tripped, fell, and overall tumbled.The ground was still shaking when I noticed A-ron a mere yard from where he previously was. He didn't seem to be doing anything but staring with dread on his face into the far corner of his room. I slowly turned to face the said corner, feeling like I was in a scary movie. Crazy maniac? Chainsaw guy?What in the world is in that corner? Only one way to know for sure. . .I looked, and in the place usually inhabited by my brother's dresser was a giant gaping hole. Not just any hole, this one was a large, skinny oval; it had cracks on the edges and what seemed like stairs going down. My first instinct was to run and get someone, my parents maybe, Indiana Jones would have been nice, but no. We were trapped in there. During the earthquake the door had been barred by something, and no amount of pushing and yelling, "We're in here! Get us out! Hello? Anyone?" would get us out. The only other option was down. I glanced at A-ron and met his eye.

"Looks like we got ourselves a little adventure, don't we A-ron?" So saying, I opened the cold storage door to find all of our camping stuff.

"Lucky that it happened in here, or we wouldn't have these supplies. Sakura, grab that flashlight! We need as many as we can get if we're going to survive down there."

"What do you think is down there? I bet it's some ancient catacomb or burial chamber."

"You know what that means, Sakura? That means there'll be treasure, or dead people. Possibly both."

" And if it's like any of you video games, a few zombies." I joked, assured that that wasn't one of the dangers we faced.

"You ready?"

"Yeah, just let me grab my bokan. I snagged it from my room before we were trapped down here."

We descended into the menacing abyss, turning back only to see a slab of rock slide over the top.

"Wait! How is that even possible?!?!?!" I yelled, all bravado gone from my voice. A-ron just shrugged.

"Like I said Sakura, adventure."

     When we finally got to the bottom of the stairs, there was a giant wall in from of us with writing carved all over it, in a language I could not identify. One was centered in the middle and was slightly larger than the others. It read: 

સાવચેત રહો. શું દો નથી નોકરો તેમના મુખ્ય જુઓ

We kept walking and found ourselves in a room with another large wall, only this time it seemed to be divided into rectangular slots, and in the center was a hand-indent. 

"Hey A-ron, try your hand in here. See if it fits." He gently touched it, his hand slightly to thick and to short to fit into the slot. I tried, and my hand fit perfectly. I almost expected something to happen, like open a previously unkown door or something, but all was still. 

"We've hit a dead end. Sorry bro, guess our adventure's over." 

Oh how very wrong I was. It was only the beginning.

TO BE CONTINUED

Waz Up??

Yo, this is a song that I loved at first, and now I'm positively addicted. ~<3

No, I'm not a Mormon...

     "It's not a Religion, its a relationship." ~My Mom
      Lately, me and TIbs have been discussing religion for some odd reason. I thought I'd blog about my church, since it seems to be so different from the LDS church.
     Every Sunday my family travels half an hour down to SLC with our dogs; we drop off Eowyn and Caden at my grandma's house and proceed to church, which is at 10:30. We start service by standing and singing lots of different songs.Once we sang nothing but 'Jesus' for about 20 minutes. I've noticed one of the main points of difference between our churches is that we don't sing hymns. We stand and dance and clap our hands, and lots of people cry out in tongues. It's really amazing when someone else stands and translates, but I'll get into that later.
     Oh goodness- I almost forgot. The church I go to is Salt Lake Christian Center, and I am Assembly of God. (If that doesn't mean anything to you, I'm a Christian that believes in the Bible and nothing more. I believe the Bible is whole and complete as is.)
     Anyway, we then go around and hug people we know, and introduce ourselves to new-comers. Another thing I've noticed that's different from LDS churches is that we are so diverse. If you look around you will see Navajo people, Indians(from India :D), Samoans, Philipianos, and many others. You also don't have to dress up. I believe that God accepts you as you are, and many people who go to our church cannot afford fancy clothes. We have 'hobos' at our church, black guys with low jeans and dreadlocks, white guys with tattoos up their arms, and little old people with bad attitudes. Diversity is the spice of life.
     After that we have a weekly update video, which usually features some kind of odd humor. (On Pastor's birthday, they gave him a handicap sign to put in his car.) And then a message from our beloved pastor, who often interrupts with a, "Tell your neighbor to wake up! I'm preaching some good stuff up here." And we end with more worship, which often includes people praying and dancing down at the altar; lots of people give their hearts to God. Kids church is also going on at this time, and me and my brother usually help out with the other teenagers, but my mom wants me to go to service since I'll be missing a lot for work over the summer. We have a store up at KidsCity (which is what kid's church is called) and we give out Bible-Bucks to those who behave and include others, and for those who bring their Bible, which they spend on stuffed animals, toys, and other odd items. We have a service up there that usually includes puppets, and we once celebrated Hanukkah, dreidels and all. We usually have a certain group of teenagers that helps with KidsCity, including my Philipiano friend Danica and her family, my Brazilian friend Larissa, and my white friend Thomas. Usually I don't dwell on ethnicity, but I feel it's good to mention culture because it gives background.
     Today there happened to be a five dollar lunch special, which featured left over food from a funeral. (Gotta love funeral potatoes!) Me and my siblings helped Marjean out with serving it up, then grabbed our own portions. I got to sit with all my friends and chat about unrelated stuff, which I definitely liked. And so ended the first half of my day. I will skip to when we went back to church at 5:00 for Mpact, for the sake of space.
     Mpact is kind of our equivelent of Girl Scouts. Except we don't have vests or anything, and we are a lot smaller. My class usually only has three or four girls, including me. Marjean is also our leader for Mpact, and my 'group' is called Girls Only. (Kind of an odd name, since all the other groups are also only for girls, except Rainbows.) The groups are decided on grades, and we have six groups, from preschool until you graduate High School. Then you can become a leader, if you so desire. The six groups are: Rainbows, Prims, Daisies, Stars, Friends, and Girls Only. I'm in Girls Only, and you get into that group when you are in 9th grade.
     What I really wanted to talk about is the Gathering. Every other Friday youth gathers together in the gym at our church, and we worship like no other. We also play volleyball and basketball, eat nachos and pizza bites, and witness using dance and skits. When we worship we dance and sing, and the instruments on stage include drums, bass, and an electric keyboard. We give it our all, and although it's rare, we sometimes speak in tongues. As it says in the Bible (Acts 2:4):
      ⁴ All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them.
      Speaking in tongues is a wonderful thing, where you let the Holy Spirit into your heart and you cry out in tongues of many nations.  When I first spoke in tongues, I found out later that I was speaking Philipiano, and I was completely awestruck. Then we have preformances from our fine arts group, and we also watch YouTube videos, such as this one:

Watch it! It's amazing...makes me feel loved :D. Anyway, that's all I have for today. Peace out!

Purple Streaks and a Yellow Dress

     Good evening to all, friends and enemies alike. The following is a random beginning, a story of immesurable proportions that you shall only see the beginning of. Read before you judge, and judge before you leave, because judgement makes the world go 'round.

     All who've known a crazy person know that to say 'no' is not an option. They also know that crazy people don't stop at 'crazy'. They go beyond all expectation, they even go beyond the expectation of expectation itself. The zaniest of them are locked up, but a good deal of them go under the radar, and cause mischief for all who know what they are looking for.
     Me, I wasn't sure what I was looking for until I found her; she was my drug, my opium, my sweet sweet relief from the pain of the broken. She came to me in yellow, for what other color would contrast so gayly with her remarkable hair? She came barefoot with a small black kitten in her arms, unheedful of the traffic around her, unruffled by the moped speeding towards her.
     I've always believed myself to be a gentleman, a hero, and a doer of good deeds. But faced with a small girl in danger, a kitten in her arms and an angry irishman on her heels, I honestly wanted to keep walking. I wanted to go home and forget all about this crazy incident, make some oolong and relax in front of a nice National Geographic. Two seconds later I was rushing into the middle of the street, telling myself that rushing into the middle of five o'clock traffic was normal, even sane; a swerve here, a honk there and I was through. I finally looked at the girl in yellow and decided she was much older than I'd thought. Of course I'd thought she was a young girl, with her strange outfit and her long, flowing, purple streaked hair. In actuality she was almost my age- her late teens at least. Her kitten was oddly calm, even purring. The girl was staring straight at it, her mouth moving over and over again in the same pattern. Skye. It would be days before I would figure the correct spelling, the 'e' on the end eluding my prior knowledge.
     She shifted slightly: her left arm moved up, deflecting my arm from grabbing hers- her right foot moving forward into a kick that I, her prospective hero, would've never expected. My training kicked in and I grabbed her foot, twisting it with a flick of my wrist. I stopped myself before I broke her knee with my other hand, and used the forward momentum to scoop her up by the waist and run the other way. The angry Irishman swore as he got cut off by another livid car and it's driver, mere feet from me and the girl. I kept running when I got to the other side, ducking behind Joe's Bar and Grill, stopping only when I hit a chain link fence. I dropped the girl and lifted up the spot I'd gone under countless times before, gesturing for her to go first.
     "Why are you helping me?" She asked, her deep blue eyes momentarily softening. I thought about that for a moment: why was I helping her?
     "Because I'm a sucker for kittens." My answer didn't seem to please her and her eyebrows furrowed for a moment before she ducked under the fence, getting mud on her elbows as she did so. On the other side she adjusted her hold on Skye, revealing a large silver locket against her merigold dress. She gave me a worried glance before saying: "I can walk on my own, thank you."
     I nodded before instinctively walking towards my secret place, my home away from home. Little did I know she'd never leave, she'd stay there enchanting the wild ferns. How was I supposed to know that I'd become completely and utterly dependant on her, to the point where I'd rather watch her stare out into the sky than be petted by my rich, loving step mother? That I'd spend the days whittling away while she stayed fair, her purple streaks growing darker and darker, her teeth longer and her mind sharper?  That before I knew it, I was old and weak while she was young and lithe.
     Her cat  would prowl and gave off a sickening mew before she swooped in and stole the life of anyone, of anything. She wasn't evil, I kept telling myself; she just needed life to live. Before I'd even realised it, I was that life.

First chair

 "Alright, next is..." Please not me, please not me, anyone but me... "Sakura"
      This is pretty much the norm for me, always picked at the worst possible moment. This particular moment happened a week ago, when we were doing the seating test for Orchestra and I'd completely forgotten to even go over the expected music. Usually before a test like this I practice something over and over and over the night before, but it just happened that I'd completely and utterly forgotten about the test in general. The piece Mrs. Tuke wanted us to play was only about 6-8 measures, but it was all slurred and there was about fifty accidentals, added to the fact that to play said accidentals I have to switch into like 2nd and a half position. (Not a real position, or something I'd ever done before) Suffice to say, it was challenging.
      Watching my stand partner play, I noticed she slipped in the middle and had to retry, but she did really good compared to some other orchestra students. The rest of the cellos also did really good. "Good job, my friend. The second time is the charm- or is it third? Anyway, you did amazing."
       As soon as Tuke said my name, I picked up my $2,500 instrument, placed my fingers boldly on the fingerboard, and began to slur the first four or five notes; I immediately chastised myself for playing the C#s flat, and rested a beat before beginning the next slur. I smiled a bit as I hit all the right notes, and let myself add a little bravado to the end. Bad idea. The bravado, small as it was, made me lose some essential mileage on my bow, making me hit the frog on my next slur. (Frog- the end of the bow. I didn't have enough space to hit all the notes using an up bow) After that I missed a another sharp, another flat (noticing as I did so that Tuke frowned slightly and wrote something on her paper.) and ended with a nice loud (and maybe a tad obnoxious) open D, my absolute favorite note to play. Well, only when it's in tune, and it was!
       After more dissection and thorough thought on the matter, I realized that I did horrible. I believe some of the eighth grade cellists did better than me, which is really sad. I also had an odd thought- why did I care so much? It really doesn't matter how well I'd done; I was almost sure I would get second or first chair, and both those positions are amazing. Why was I so worked up about this test? To this day I'm still not sure exactly, but for now I'll call it my overly competetive trait showing through a little bit.
      Mrs. Tuke is going to give us our new seats tomorrow, which is what brought on this entire blog post. Tomorrow I'll find out if I keep my position of first chair, or lose it to someone else. And I was also volunteered to play the cello for the french play Cinderella, or the french 3's version of it. And I'm working on my ensemble piece, Rosamunde. Which brings me to ask yet again: Why am I so focused on this tiny little seating chart test? Why, of all the millions of things I'm doing, am I fretting about something that happens to be completely irrelevant? Maybe it's a matter of pride; the first chair is always looked upon with a certain amount of cordial, and maybe even removed, respect. I want to showcase my hard work and my amazing cello,as well as sit in the very front of an orchestra I will soon be leaving. My Orchestra is like my family. Granted, it's a huge family, but we're still close and have fun playing together at concerts and even just in class. I want to be among the few, the chosen, to sit in the front and represent my section. Only time will tell if I get this privilege, or if it's passed on to another cello. 

Proteles Christata

     Also known as an aardwolf, this proteles christata is a little known cousin of the famous hyena. Hyena's are large, aggressive animals capable of taking on wilderbeasts and zebras, while the aardwolf is much smaller and depends on it's coloring and overall appearance to scare away predators. Both animals are placed in the Hyaenidae family, althoug the aardwolf is alone in the subfamily protelidae.
      The most interesting aspect of the aarwolf is that it feeds primarily on termites, with a few larvae and carrion in the mix. The 'aard' part of it's common name is taken from aardvark, on account of it's unusual diet. Aarwolves are nocturnal and 'hunt' at night, eating up to 200,000 termites per night. When hunting, the aardwolf takes special care not to destroy the termite mounds he eats from, ensuring that they will repopulate it, and thus ensuring a continual supply of food for the aardwolf.
      The aardwolf is usually found in brushland, or savannahs and has been reported to live on sparsely populated farmland. Most farmers treat them as useful, harmless animals, but it has been killed for it's fur. These animals live in dens hidden by bushes, and live in packs most like those of wolves. Aarwolves mate for life and often raise their children in dens that their parents used, though they tend to change dens every six weeks when not raising young aarwolves. Aarwolves are solitary when they hunt, creating the illusion that they are solitary 'lone wolves'.
   
     This animal caught my attention earlier today when I was googling random animals. It's odd how close it is to a hyena, yet how very different. My guess is that they have addapted to look like hyenas because of the hyena's reputation with other animals. Kind of like dressing like a big bad biker guy to scare away potential scam artists or pickpockets. I like this animal a lot, even though I've only read about and seen it. It just reminds me of a sweet, mini version of a wolf or a hyena, and I find myself automatically connecting with it. I usually blog about animals that are threatened with extinction, but this animal is totally free from the after effects of deforestation and other usual causes of indangerment. (Except for, of course, the threat of pesticides and poison on farms. Reminds me of peregrine falcons becoming endangered because of DDT.) I blogged about this animal purely because I wanted to, and to show people something they wouldn't see every day.

Zut! Mon Chien monge le devoirs. Si, au lieu...

     I've noticed lately that I like to borrow a lot of words from other languages. My favorites are French, Korean, and Japanese although I've been caught speaking Spanish and Portugese too. (You might even count Shakespearian! I have to memorize a quote from Romeo and Juliet) I love Romeo and Juliet purely because my name is Julia, or Julie. It makes for a lot of entertaining circumstances. Anyway, I've always called people mon ami, or my friend en Francais. (In French) I'm also watching a lot of animes (Japanese) so I'll randomly say Nii-chan or Onee-san. They both mean older brother, but there's about a million ways of saying it. The endings depend on multiple different situations, explained below. Although honorifics are an important part of Japanese, you don't record it when you are writing or typing someone's name. Here's some of the most common honorifics and their meanings:

San-(さん) Is the most common honorific, and its used between equals of almost any age. You would call your classmate Jessica-san, and a distant relative could also be addressed with it. If you use san with an animal name, it is the equivelant of Mrs or Mr and is deemed childish. For ex: usagi-san. (Mr. rabbit)

Sama-(様) The same as san, only more honorable. You might use this to address an elder, or a higher co-worker.

Chan-(ちゃん) Is an endearing honorific, and is mostly used for intimate relationships or teenage girls. It can also be used for a cute animal, but to use it on someone higher than you would be very disrespectful. Also, some girls drop the -ko at the end of their name and add -chan instead; for ex: Kanako becomes Kana-Chan.


Bō-(坊) Is the equivalent of chan, only it's used exclusively for boys and is much rarer.

Kun-(君) Is used to address under-classmen, or students. For teenagers to use this term is almost always disrespectful.

Senpai-(先輩) Is used to address those in higher grades than you, and is slightly less honorable than sama. You would never adress a teacher or a political figure by senpai. Also, it is pronounced sempai.

Sensei-(先生) Is the most honorable of honorifics, and is used to address teachers, politicians, and people who have reached a certain degree in an art. It's most commonly used in America to refer to the head of a dojo.

There's a lot of other honorifics, but I won't bore you by listing every single one. Now do you see why Japanese is so very difficult? I also have a wide vocabulary of Japanese words, but lets move on to Korean. The most prominent words I know is a sentence I learned at the Boys and Girls Club, from a Korean exchange student. 

바보 개 고물 사과나무 

It sounds like: Pabo mung-mungi bongu sagwa-namu. Or in English: Stupid dog pooped on an apple tree. Don't know why I know this exact sentence, but I do know that it's not fluent and it's literally stupid dog poop apple tree. 

      So if I randomly exclaim some odd sounding sentence, don't mind me- it's probably just a French swear word. Or if I call you some weird name, look it up later. (By the way I'm still just an étudiants, so if I screw up just let me know :D)

TKAM and WTM Comparison Essay

            Have you ever read To Kill a Mockingbird, or Walk Two Moons? After I read these two books I realized that Salamanca Hiddle and Jean Louise Finch (Scout) have a lot in common. They also have multiple differences but all in all they have formidable personalities.

            Scout and Salamanca are alike in that both of their mothers are dead. In Walk Two Moons, the quote, “There, on a little hill overlooking the river and the valley, was my mother’s grave.” Illustrates that fact as does, “Our mother died when I was two, so I never felt her absence.” Both of their mothers died at different points in their life. Salamanca’s mom died when she was old enough to miss her afterwards, while Scout never really knew her mother. These points were elemental in teaching them that life is not always full of “Smoothbeautiful folds.”

            Both Scout and Salamanca learned the hard way that life isn’t always fair and happy. Two quotes that illustrate this point are: “It can’t be dead. It was alive just a minute ago.” From Walk Two Moons and “It’s like bein’ a caterpillar in a cacoon…I always though Maycomb folks were the best folks in the world.” From To Kill a Mockingbird. Both Scout and Salamanca learn the world isn’t all fluff and rose petals from two different, yet similar situations. They also have numerous differences.

            One of these differences is the way they talk. While Scout can be found saying, “I’ve been chewin’ it all afternoon and I ain’t dead yet, not even sick.” Salamanca speaks in a more educated way, and likes to state facts with less personality than scout. “My father once said I was as gullible as a fish. I thought he said edible. I thought he ment I was tasty.” –Salamanca

            Both Scout and Salamanca have a friend with a large imagination. Scout’s friend and fiancée, Dill, once said, “ I-Smell-Death.” He then went on to say that an old lady taught him how to tell if someone is going to die. Salamanca’s friend, ‘Peeby’, is the equivalent of Dill. “In her world, no one was ordinary. People were either perfect…[or] they were lunatics or axe murderers.” Both Dill and Phoebe were using their imagination and half truths to explain their world.

            Scout and Salamanca are alike in many different ways, and different in multiple others. Although they are from two completely different worlds, they still hold striking similarities. 

5 More Minutes

     "Please Mom, 5 more minutes."
"Yes Julia. In 5 more minutes we will be leaving for Salt Lake."
Once my brain computed that sentence, I jumped out of bed like a cat out of a bath tub. I realized I'd slept in my jean skirt and a tank top, so I threw on a random pair of long socks (It just happened to snow yesterday and I'd rather not freeze my legs off yet) and a T-shirt, grabbed my mini back-pack with The Brass Verdict inside and a few party favors from when our church celebrated Hanukkah, and ran out the door.
     As we were driving out of the driveway my mom handed me and Alex identical letters from Lagoon, asking with no small amount of typos whether we wanted to go back to Grounds or not. I stuffed mine in my Tinkerbell bag and realized I'd forgotten to grab my (engraved) Bible and mentally cursed. Of course I then mentally abolished myself for mentally cursing, and commenced to read The Brass Verdict until I was thoroughly car-sick.
     As we pulled up to Salt Lake City Christian Center, I looked down at my outfit and realized that I'd put on black knee socks with skulls and paint splatters with a pair of white flats covered in red, paisley blue, and baby pink polka dots. Add the jean skirt, Girls Only T-shirt and pigtails and what do you get? A five year old who didn't want to listen to her mother when she told her that her outfit didn't match. I had to deal with lots of stares during church, firstly because I was the only one of my friends wearing a skirt, and second because of everything else.
     After church I went over to my Grandmothers house and was promptly covered in three different colors of dog hair. After being jumped on, hugged and dealing with my little brother tracking stuff all over the house(we're still not sure whether it was dirt or poo), I finally sat down to a nice meal of home-made chicken nuggets. We joked about hot oil until the topic was thoroughly exhausted, and then sat down to look at old pictures of my aunt's visit to Scotland. Halfway through my mother handed me the laptop and told me to apply, which I did. After looking over my sisters shoulder at her application, I realized I had a lot of errors on mine, including putting the wrong dates on my previous employments, and (almost!) putting that I was currently out on bail. After that I set to work blogging, and here I am now, with about two more minutes until I go watch the football game. Which reminds me of my pastor saying on the pulpit that he bled orange, and looked forward to going home & cheering for the Broncos. Also my little buddy Alice (pronounced Lee-Cee) is moving back to Brazil next month. Now if you will excuse me, I have some funnies to read.

Holiday Spirit

     Cheese and crackers. Now my brother is threatening to duck tape my mouth, since I'm almost screaming at him and my sister, "STOP POKING ME!". And now Alex is yelling in my ear to change the spelling of duck tape to duct tape. I WILL CHANGE IT LATER! Oi, why can't I ever get two minutes to blog?! It was the same this entire break, including Christmas. Normally I never get angry, but my fuse is really really short this season. Good thing I have multiple Christmas 'toys' to play with and ignore my entire family for a short while. Until Colton yells my name and blames me for clogging the vacuum in a very loud (no, he's not yelling...ugh) voice while trying to simultaneously deflect Dad from giving him more chores and and drag the vaccum upstairs.
     Firstly, Colton and I pooled our Walmart gift-cards and went on a fabulous trip to buy Skyrim the day after Christmas, with millions of kids screaming, "Daddy, I want it!" or, "Why did he get me the red lip gloss when I obviously wanted the Persimmony Pink one?!" Well we finally got it, on New Year's day. Amazing! I absolutely love this video game, even though I've only been as far as I've seen on the tutorial, due to Family Cleaning Day. I'm a Kehjit (hopefully I spelled that right, I'm too lazy to check) and the female version is so much smaller than the male version it's comical. I also got a how to draw manga book, (MangaMania Girl Power!) and a small drawing notebook with, da-ta-da, crayons.
     I also got my cello refinished over the break. I bought my cello at Summerhay's and my parents have almost payed her all off so we took her in to do some minor repairs before the insurance wears off. Summerhay's is in Salt Lake City, so we had my G-ma pick it up and bring her up to our house today, and she told me that the guy who fixed it up, Christian, lectured her for ten minutes about how to care for my cello. She was pretending to be severe as she handed Rosalia to me, but she couldn't help but crack a smile. And yes I named my cello, it's Rosalia because that's who made her.
     I also got lots and lots of candy, including Poky (the yummy strawberry kind) and various other Japanese candies. One of my favorites so far out of all the candy is a chocolate covered 'biscuit' from England. I got a new book series about wizards and a Halloween clock with cats on it. Every hour the clock makes creepy Halloween noises, though at night they seem to be quieter. I got kokeshi and neko erasers, and my sister got sushi erasers. Kokeshi is a small japanese doll, and neko is a cat with it's paw up in the air. So Kawaii.
     Although the holidays have really tested my patience, I had fun.